


life on mars

by actonbell



Series: we can be heroes [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Dom Sebastian, Dom/sub, Frottage, Gentle Dom, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming, Sub Chris, Switching, Top Sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5838034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actonbell/pseuds/actonbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris hopes once they get back to the hotel, Seb will pounce and ravish him again like he did in the locker room (he got hard just thinking about the <i>possibility;</i> damn, this is out of control), but even once they're back in Chris's room, Sebastian appears entirely serious about getting Chris to eat something. He winds up lounging on Chris's neatly made, perfectly spotless bed (Chris resolves to leave the cleaning staff a truly enormous tip) and exploring the hotel's <i>room service app.</i> "Hunh, do you know you can order in from local restaurants with this?" he asks, as if Chris might somehow give a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut. Chris, lying flat next to him on the bed, stares up at the ceiling with a martyred saintly look he remembers from his Catholic days and tries to look like he'll expire in the next fifteen minutes if he doesn't get some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. sailors fighting in the dance hall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rana Eros (ranalore)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranalore/gifts).



> This planned installment got really long, so I'm splitting it into two chapters -- the rimming and frottage will be in the second. That should be posted Monday. 
> 
> Chris is of course teasing Sebastian about _Black Swan,_ the 2010 movie in which you can see Seb for about half a New York minute (and apparently that took two weeks to shoot!).
> 
> I listened a lot while writing this to Sarah Blasko's beautiful cover of David Bowie's "Life on Mars," recorded live as a tribute a few days after his death: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnZtVY6Lu5U (My favourite Bowie take on his own song is probably the Storytellers version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I57XDJDadJs )

Chris hopes once they get back to the hotel, Seb will pounce and ravish him again like he did in the locker room (he got hard just thinking about the _possibility;_ damn, this is out of control), but even once they're back in Chris's room, Sebastian appears entirely serious about getting Chris to eat something. He winds up lounging on Chris's neatly made, perfectly spotless bed (Chris resolves to leave the cleaning staff a truly enormous tip) and exploring the hotel's _room service app._ "Hunh, do you know you can order in from local restaurants with this?" he asks, as if Chris might somehow give a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut. Chris, lying flat next to him on the bed, stares up at the ceiling with a martyred saintly look he remembers from his Catholic days and tries to look like he'll expire in the next fifteen minutes if he doesn't get some.

"I have a meal plan, you know, in fact...." He turns to look at Seb, but doesn't touch him. "So do you, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just fantasizing about eating something other than chicken, right?" Maddeningly, Sebastian keeps playing with the app.

"I thought you fantasized about _me,"_ Chris says snottily, because he's not above getting his own back and Sebastian _did_ say _all I could think about all fucking day was you_ which was about the hottest thing Chris has ever heard in his life and here they are, _right here,_ on a _bed,_ together, and --

"My God, you're pouty." Seb's tossed aside his phone and is watching Chris, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Fuck you, I am not pouty."

"Oh yeah?" Seb rolls over on Chris easily, supporting himself with his arms so he isn't too heavy, and bites gently at Chris's lower lip. "Why is this sticking out, then?"

"It's happy to see you," Chris says, and draws Sebastian into a long, slow kiss which feels delicious, want rather than need. Sadly, Sebastian ends it too soon, that is, before a couple of days have gone by, and stays balanced above Chris, his face now a little shadowed.

"We do need to talk, though. I mean, at least you wanted...." he starts, then trails off. For all Seb's hesitations and half-joking repetitions of "I don't know anything" in public, the ones that get endlessly quoted and debated and analyzed and turned into _GIFs_ for Chrissakes, Chris hasn't seen him vulnerable very often. Almost never in public, not even that much when they've been alone together -- like that first time, when Seb was hunched up on his bed apologizing and looked so young and uncertain.

It's hard for Chris to put into words, but he doesn't think the hesitation is just about Seb fucking his co-star, or his _male_ co-star, or even his male co-star who's _playing Captain America_ (Jesus _fuck,_ what the hell are they doing). It's something else, that feeling of fitting, that they'd found something in each other from the first in Hayley's bathroom, before they'd ever kissed. It's an attraction so strong he wants to back away nearly from instinct, although he doesn't really want to resist at all. He reaches up and cups Sebastian's face in his hands, the way Sebastian does with him, meaning to be reassuring, and Seb draws in a deep shuddering breath but stays still.

Chris is slightly surprised by that reaction, but he says as gently as he can, "Yeah, I guess we do." Sebastian still looks tense. His hair tickles Chris's cheeks a little bit, but Chris doesn't move his hands to brush it away. "Maybe some food first, though?"

Seb takes another breath, this one steadier, and says, very quietly, "Yeah." He tries to smile, kisses Chris quickly and moves away, getting himself up and off Chris with that kind of lanky grace Chris used to envy and now can appreciate instead. He lies there, wondering if he should have just grabbed Seb and kissed the hell out of him, and wishing he'd done that instead.

Seb winds up ignoring the menu and ordering by heart from his meal plan, which is basically the same as Chris's -- in fact they get the same thing, a tuna "burger" with salad, heavy on the chopped vegetables and garlic, with slivered raw almonds mixed in and egg whites and olive oil to hold it all together. The hotel kitchen has the right recipes for the meal plans, and it's such a nice place the tuna'll probably be fresh, not out of a can. Chris tries not to think about pasta, or croissants, or -- fucking hell, _lasagna,_ his mom's recipe, or how he never wants to eat nuts again in his entire fucking life. Seb catches his expression as he's ending the call, and grimaces in sympathy. "Kinda the same old same old, hunh?"

"Yeah. So much fucking chicken, I keep thinking that one morning, I'm gonna wake up and have to start checking myself for feathers" -- Seb's real laugh is almost as if he gets surprised by his own amusement, and his eyes squinch tight shut -- "like that girl in, in what was it now? Some bird movie...."

"Oh, shut up -- "

 _"Black Turkey? Dark Chicken?_ Hey, wait, if it was _grey_ chicken -- "

Sebastian raises his eyebrows high and says very seriously, "If you make a _Fifty Shades_ joke right now, I'm going to get up, go to my own room, and go to sleep."

"Well, _you're_ no fun," Chris mock-sulks.

"That's not what you were saying a couple of hours ago." Seb's grin flashes sharp and bright, and Chris feels his breath catch in his chest.

They eat with the trays spread out on the bed, in a kind of glum camaraderie -- the food tastes good and was obviously carefully prepared, but Chris always feels overstuffed when he has to eat to bulk up, and it's unsettling how uncomfortable he feels eating when he's already full from the last high-protein minimeal several hours ago. The high point of training is the months of pre-filming, and it starts to slide the moment the cameras roll because you're just too busy to keep working out half the day and eating every few hours, until the last two or three weeks when he barely hits the gym at all, only a couple of hours in the morning and maybe an evening run. It's peaks and valleys, like everything else in this business: feast or famine, hurry up and wait. He did try to keep in good shape between the six months on _Civil War_ and the upcoming _Infinity Wars_ slog because that's going to be brutal, but it's early enough in the reshoots he knows he has to try to keep to the routine, but he also _really_ doesn't want to.

"Come on, come on" -- Seb's elbow nudges him out of his building funk -- "you need to eat. Clean your plate, right?"

"I'd punch out Kevin Feige right now for a double cheeseburger, extra mayo," Chris mutters, and Sebastian laughs again. He pretends to glare. "Who are you, my mother?"

Seb looks overly horrified in that exaggerated way he does when he puts on, the opposite of his deadpan manner, like he wants the broadness to signal that you're in on the joke. "I _hope_ you haven't been doing with your mother what -- "

"NO! No, no no! Leave my mother out of this, dude!"

"You brought her up!"

"Jesus Christ, will you _shut up --_ Hey," Chris says with genuine glee, "I _outrank_ you! Shut the hell up, _sarge."_

"Well, in the comics, Steve's real rank is he's actually a _general,"_ Seb says seriously, "but Bucky's probably the equivalent, although he -- "

"Equivalent nothing! I'm Cap. You're the sergeant. Is the hero called _Sergeant_ America? I don't fucking think so."

"Yeah, I'd like to see you say that to Sergeant Rock," Sebastian says. Chris knows they sound as if they're a couple of minutes away from a junior high cafeteria-style food fight, but it feels so good to just goof around -- it's hard for him to crack wise on set, with all the attention and cameras and spent money and storylines weighing down on him, and it's one of the things he misses most about home. So he keeps it going, even though it's silly. _Because_ it's this silly.

"Yeah, who's that, some kinda wrestler?"

The bullshitting makes the food go down a lot more easily, and after they both pile up the trays and plates and silverware and glasses on a tiny side table that looks like it might swoon under the burden ("The hell? Wasn't there a desk in this type of room, last time we stayed here?") they kick back on the bed again, Chris sitting up against the padded headboard, Sebastian slouched lower down, in his customary sprawl. If they were back home it'd be about the time Chris would make a guest drink some Bud Lite ("you gotta get dirty, c'mon") and turn on some old _Buffy_ or _Law & Order_ episodes, maybe get into some half-assed discussion of Buddhism or quantum physics after a couple of hours. It's not at all in his nature, but right now he tries to stay quiet, calm and relaxed, open to whatever's coming next.

"Sooo," Sebastian says, drawling out the word like he's trying to be funny, in a way that lets Chris know he's nervous too, "about that stuff we were going to talk about." He's not looking at Chris, but over at the big blank flatscreen as if he's thinking of what they might be doing otherwise too, and somehow it makes Chris melt a little.

"Sooooo," he gibes, and Sebastian shakes his head and mutters _you asshole_ under his breath, smiling, "that was a totally smooth and cool way of introducing whatever the fuck it is we're going to talk about," but he takes Seb's hand and squeezes it a little bit to take the sting out of his teasing. Seb squeezes back at once, much harder, maybe a lot more nervous than he's letting on. Chris strokes his thumb over Seb's wrist very lightly, as slowly as he can. Seb lets out a big breath and shuts his eyes.

"You like that?" Chris asks softly. Seb nods, says _yeah_ very quietly without opening his eyes. "I want to make you feel good....tell me what you want. Anything you want." He bows his head and brings Seb's wrist up to his mouth, presses an open-mouthed kiss to it, licks the skin gently and then presses his teeth in, the way Seb did to him. He hears Seb's breathing change, catching at first and then a long exhale, a little shaky at the very end. Chris feels like he did when he woke up in bed next to Sebastian and reached out, knowing it wasn't all a mistake or a dream, that Seb wanted him too: a rush of relief so hot and overwhelming it was almost more arousing than the desire itself, mixing in with it like nitrous oxide. He traces his tongue up Seb's wrist to his palm, feels Seb gasp, turns Seb's hand over and tongues the back, kisses each knuckle, flicks his tongue out again and licks in between Seb's fingers.

"You don't know what I want," Seb says, low, again like that first time, except at least now he doesn't sound as if what he wants is so awful he'll somehow defile Chris just by thinking about it.

Chris shuts his eyes and rests his forehead on the back of Seb's hand for a minute, breathing in, and out, smelling his skin. Then he straightens up, not letting go, and says, "Then I guess that's what we need to talk about." Seb mutters something that sounds like _yeah_ but still looks so tense Chris says "Or you could maybe just give me the brochure" without thinking, which does get a laugh, even if it's an unwilling one. Chris presses on: "For God's sake, how bad can it be? You wanna slap me around? Punch me? Hit me with a -- "

Sebastian looks horrified. "No! Christ, no, not that."

" -- you know we've actually beat each other up a _lot_ of times, so if -- "

"That's not the same thing and you know it. It's not real, we're not -- "

"If you want to step into the ring and go a few rounds -- " Chris mimes boxing, pretty badly.

 _"No --_ for God's sake, Chris, it's not a fucking joke here -- "

"Then what _is_ it? What do you want?"

Chris knows he was pushing, so he's shocked but not too surprised when Sebastian pushes himself up and rolls over on top of Chris in the same motion, with that supple grace that Chris knows he won't ever really have no matter how many gym classes he takes, so in about two seconds his knees are pressed against Chris's hips, his hands tight around Chris's wrists, pinning them up against the headboard. His face is an inch away from Chris's when he growls, "I want you to _want it._ I want to hear you beg, I want to watch you lose control, I want to push you farther than anyone's ever made you go, I want to pull you apart so you ask me to please do it to you more, want to be the only one who can make you feel like that, the only one who -- "

Chris shoves his hips up against Seb and surges forward, letting his mouth jar into Sebastian's and kissing him hard, hoping it conveys _yes_ and _please_ and _now_ as much as he wants it to. Seb doesn't let go his hands, but kisses him back even harder, almost angrily, closing his teeth on Chris's lower lip and then thrusting his tongue in. Chris shuts his eyes and leans his head back, letting Seb have his mouth, fingers going slack in Seb's grip, feeling his muscles relax and spine sag against the headboard. Seb doesn't let up but just keeps kissing him, moving down to bite at his neck or lick along his jaw but always returning to Chris's mouth, drawn as if it's a magnet. He pushes his hips against Chris in a slow, steady rhythm that has to be a deliberate counterpoint to the frantic, forceful kissing, and Chris thinks if this keeps up for a couple minutes longer he'll come right in his pants, which hasn't happened in so many years he can't remember when the last time was.

Seb's mouth is on his neck again, sucking hard enough some part of Chris's brain idly wonders if he's going to have to try bribing makeup tomorrow with doughnuts or something, and he turns his head, traces the shell of Seb's ear with his tongue, says right against it: "I want you, okay -- Seb -- I want all of you, all of it, I want it....whatever you want. Anything. It's yours, all yours, _I'm_ yours. Anything."

Sebastian stops rocking into Chris and stays poised above him a moment, not letting his full weight down, his hold on Chris's wrists easing up a little bit. Chris kisses his ear again, the spot right below the point of his jaw, tries to get him to turn his head to catch Seb's mouth with his own. Sebastian lets him, kisses him back, but then draws away and settles on Chris's thighs, bringing his arms down but still holding his hands lightly. He puts his forehead against Chris's, eyes shut, and says: "At least, _please,_ pick a fucking safeword. Will you please?"

Chris feels giddy, almost, and now that they've started this, he doesn't want to stop, ever, doesn't really want to do anything else. He kisses Seb again. "Doesn't 'no' work?"

Sebastian turns the corners of his mouth down, mobile as ever, and Chris has to force himself to look into his eyes. "Yeah -- I mean, unless you specifically say so, for just one time, 'no' and 'stop' and 'don't,' those always work. Or I can keep checking in....I can ask you, 'Do you like that'...." He kisses Chris, very softly, reaching up to put a hand on Chris's cheek. "'Tell me how much you like that....'" He runs his thumb across Chris's lips, gets him to open his mouth again. "Tell me what you want me to do to you...." and he slides one, two fingers into Chris's mouth. Chris sucks, hard. Sebastian smiles, adds another finger, then gently pulls his hand away.

Chris says, honestly not really sure what the problem is but knowing it's there, "Well, that all sounds....good. And not that....complicated, really?"

Sebastian says, not looking at Chris, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. I know you won't." Sebastian still won't look at him, so Chris says, "Look, I'm a grown man. A pretty big guy. I keep in shape, right? I kinda work out -- " Sebastian won't laugh. "I'll say no, if I don't want something. I promise. It'll be all right."

Sebastian smiles again, not nicely this time, and shakes his head. "You make it sound....you think it's....that easy...."

Chris sighs harshly, exasperated. "Okay. Superbowl."

Sebastian does look at him now, surprised. " -- What?"

"Superbowl. That's my fucking safeword. You wanted one, you got one. Okay?"

 _"'Superbowl,'_ really," Seb says, sounding more like himself again. "Yeah. Okay. That's a good choice, actually -- "

"But 'no' still works, right?"

"'No' always works," Sebastian promises.

"Well _okay then,"_ Chris says, his tone so obviously frustrated Sebastian does smile at him, and reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, like he can't help it. "Look, Sebastian...." Seb meets his eyes at once, as if his name's a command. It's a little unsettling, and Chris tries to soften his voice. "I get it, I do. At least I think I do. I trust you. But you have to trust me too, right?" Sebastian looks down immediately. "So....do you?"

Sebastian doesn't say anything. Chris just waits, for once not jumping the gun. Finally Sebastian says, almost sounding resentful, "You know I do. I did, right from the start. When we -- the first time I...." He shrugs.

Carefully, telegraphing each movement, Chris cups Sebastian's face in his hands again; he still doesn't know exactly what this gesture means, although he knows the effect it has, on both of them; Sebastian shivers. "Well, then....what you want, whatever you want," Chris says, trying to put every nuance of meaning he can into the words, "it's....okay. It's okay."

Sebastian huffs lightly through his nose, like a cat. "Just like that," he says, disbelieving, but not looking away this time.

"Yeah," Chris says softly, "just like that."

He lets go of Sebastian, who sighs, then swings one leg off Chris and turns so they're both sitting up, side by side, heads at the same height, hip to hip. "So what if I wanted you to do something you didn't want to do?" he asks, his voice sounding oddly young again. When Sebastian lets himself be vulnerable, Chris thinks, you can almost see the overwhelmed kid he was, yanked from country to country, school to school even when he got to America, scrambling to keep up, learn different languages just try to talk with other kids, never mind trying to joke or be cool. No wonder he doesn't show that to most people.

"Like....what?" Chris gamely tries to imagine it, but all he can think of is ridiculous stuff: Seb ordering him to crawl across the floor _(9 1/2 Weeks)_ or to drop and give him twenty (every boot camp scene ever). _Thank you, Hollywood._

Seb shrugs. "Let's see, like" -- he darts a glance at Chris, calculating -- "play with yourself -- "

Chris makes an involuntary face. "Nooo, I don't think so."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Or -- "

"So that's it?" Chris can't help asking. "Just....no?"

Sebastian sighs. "Chris, if you were in bed with a girl, and she said she didn't want to do something, you wouldn't, right?"

"Well, of course not." Chris pauses. "But, well, I thought...."

"This....it's....this isn't about taking away someone's consent. That's the kick: you consent to everything you want. It's more about....finding out what you'll consent _to._ What you'll do, with someone else, _for_ someone else. Finding out what you really do want. Pushing the limits. Letting yourself go. You can still say no, any time."

Chris has to admit that sounds a lot more fucking hot than what little he's seen of the D/s scene, which is mostly bad acting and "you filthy little slut" and "hurt me daddy" and spanking and slapping. Apparently bad porn has more downsides than he realized: it's not even really that educational.

"So if your....limits....if you _don't_ want to push...."

"Everyone has hard limits, sure. Some are personal. Some are more practical, like you don't want to restrain someone with a back injury in certain ways, but you can find workarounds for those."

Chris turns his head, looks at Sebastian. "Do _you_ have....hard limits?"

Sebastian shrugs, as if Chris is asking about his favourite flavour of ice cream. "Sure."

"What are they?" Chris can't help asking.

Sebastian looks across the room and rattles off: "No slapping, no spanking, no whipping, no punishment tools in general, no scat, no watersports, no blood, no surprise guests even if I know them, and no coming on my face."

Chris doesn't try to catch his eye, but reaches down and squeezes his hand, tight. _Jesus,_ he thinks.

After a moment Sebastian squeezes back, then lets out a long, controlled breath, the kind you do when you're trying to calm yourself down. "Don't ask," he warns, still not looking at Chris. "Not....right now."

"I won't," Chris says seriously. "I wasn't going to. Honest."

Sebastian relaxes, a little. Whatever his reasons for having that list are, he really doesn't want to talk about it here and now. Chris can't blame him. He doesn't even want to imagine why Sebastian's able to rap all that out automatically.

"That's more stuff someone would do _to_ you, though, right?" he says, trying to figure it out. "What's the stuff that....you don't want to do? To someone else?" _To me,_ he doesn't say.

Sebastian shrugs again. "Pretty much the same spectrum of....stuff....I don't like hitting people. Spanking, slapping, whatever. Biting or marking, that's....fine...." Seb's eyes flicker back to his, and Chris remembers Seb marking him up in the shower. He swallows, hard, and is pretty sure Seb notices, but he doesn't make a big thing of it. "Hands....just hands are....good. Holding someone down, or what we did, when I told you not to move because of my arm, so it was all on you....that's....good."

"Yeah," Chris manages. He's going to be an adult and sit here and talk this through with his....whatever they are to each other right now, in a mature manner, and not jump his bones immediately. He can totally wait however long it's going to take, another five minutes or fewer, he hopes. He frowns a little. "But in the shower, when I, ah, blew you, when you came on my....it looked like you...." No, he's not going to last five minutes.

"Yeah," Sebastian says, sounding as overwhelmed as Chris just did. "That was....well, I didn't order....ask....you to do that. That was different. You....it was like you gave it to me. It was kinda wild." They're both breathing faster, Chris notices, chests pushing up and down, almost in synch. Sebastian's thumb is working between Chris's thumb and his first finger, stroking the web very gently, reaching down to stroke lightly across his palm, then working back up. It's feathery and maddening, the sensation going right from Chris's skin to his spine.

"Why'd you ask me about jerking myself off?" he asks hoarsely, his mouth off on its own adventures without him once again. "Do you want that?"

Seb tips his head back against the headboard, then glances over at Chris, but doesn't stop moving his thumb. "It's something a lot of people don't feel comfortable doing in front of someone else, even a partner....and it's something you only do in private -- I assume" -- Seb lifts those eyebrows and Chris glares -- "so, that's a yes, then....so sometimes it's more like a power trip. Which I, I'm _not_ as into, personally."

"Oh." Chris's throat feels dry, and he swallows. "So what _would_ you be into? About it."

Sebastian looks down, so Chris can't read his eyes anymore. "Watching someone? Well....just seeing what they like, how they get themselves going....it's not as good as someone else touching you, but when you do it, you know right where to go, what'll get you there fastest, right?"

"Right," Chris says, his voice coming out creaky.

Sebastian looks back up at him. "I like seeing that -- _knowing_ that. I like seeing your face when you're getting yourself there, so I don't have to worry about what I'm doing or get distracted, just watch you, see you doing something nobody else does.... _if_ you wanted. I mean, you said no." His face is clear, voice untroubled: if Chris doesn't want to, they won't, apparently. It's up to him.

Chris licks his lips. "I think you might have just changed my mind."

 

For the first couple of minutes it's a real flop, not only because Chris and Seb argue over whether or not Chris _really_ changed his mind, or if he's just agreeing to do it because he wants to make Sebastian happy. The main problem is Chris can't get used to someone else being in the room. He was never part of the circle jerks he sometimes heard about in high school, and the few times girls had walked in on him masturbating he'd been embarrassed and they'd been shocked, or even angry (granted, that was probably because _nasty_ porn was onscreen at the time, which he was watching more as a kind of jump-start for his dick than out of any real enjoyment or actual interest). He shuts his eyes, tries to think about how he and Seb were grinding on each other, but he can't connect with the mental images and he sighs, frustrated. He got hard when they were taking off their clothes, touching and kissing, but even with Sebastian stretched out alongside him so they're facing each other, skin on skin, it's just not happening.

"Lemme start," Sebastian says in his ear, and Chris shivers. Sebastian looks right in Chris's eyes and brings up his own hand to his mouth, licking it from palm to fingertip several times, smiling at Chris, and then reaches down to grasp Chris's cock, his grip warm and wet and tight. As Sebastian works him, Chris gasps and starts to tip his head back, shutting his eyes again, but Sebastian says, soft, "No -- no, Chris, look. I want you to watch." Chris nods, swallows, and looks down at Sebastian's hand moving on him, steady and slow. Sebastian kisses his forehead, gets up on one elbow so he can press his lips to Chris's temple, his cheek, lick down his neck, bite at his ear. His rhythm never falters or speeds up, either, the regular pressure something Chris can't escape or change and somehow that starts getting him off, too. He tries to rock his hips back and forth, push up into Sebastian's hand, but Seb slings one leg over him and keeps him still, murmuring "No, shh, just wait," his cock sliding against Chris's thigh now, hard and warm.

"Put your hand on mine," Sebastian says, still quiet, and Chris gasps, not sure he'll even make it a minute more if he does that. "Okay. Okay," he says more to himself than Seb, and wraps his fingers around Seb's. He's precoming already, a helluva lot, which would be embarrassing usually, but the slick gets in between his cock and Sebastian's hand, and his fingers and Sebastian's, and he moans. "Okay, Seb, I can't, I'm gonna...."

"Just wait," Seb says, still not slowing down or jacking him faster at all, which is making Chris lose his fucking mind even more. "Okay, here....here, you got it?" He gently slides his hand out from under, his fingers shiny and wet, and puts it on top of Chris's hand, still controlling the motion. "There....there you go, that's beautiful, you're doing so good. You look so _goddamn_ hot...." He kisses Chris, licking and biting at his lips, Chris too out of it by now to really kiss back, but Sebastian doesn't seem to mind. Sebastian props himself up on his elbow again, sliding his leg off Chris, and gently nudges until Chris is flat on his back, his left hand up over his head clutching the sheets in a death grip, his right hand still pumping away, as slowly and evenly as he can. He feels Sebastian put his hand back on top, not dictating the rhythm now, barely touching Chris, just moving with him. "That's it, that's right, that's so great, yeah....that's it, that's...." Chris can feel Sebastian's erection brushing his thigh.

"Look at me, Chris," Seb whispers in his ear. Chris turns his head, tries focusing without much success, feeling drugged. "That's it. There you go. Look at me....look at me...." Chris blinks hard and manages it. Sebastian's own pupils are huge, he's panting too, they must be mirror images of each other, and just for an instant Chris can feel both his pleasure and Seb's, like in the locker room, like that's the point of Seb watching, not just to see Chris falling apart but to be in it with him, as much as he can. Seb suddenly kisses him, as if he can't wait any more, and so Chris comes, a lot harder and longer -- and better -- than he usually does jacking off on his own, his thighs trembling so much they're vibrating. He hears his own voice _loud_ in his ears, ringing off the hotel room ceiling, and his body says _"oh -- oh -- oh"_ a couple more times without him until he finally falls back down on the mattress, released.

Of course the bed is a mess: he came on the sheets, all over his own stomach and thighs, on his hand, on Sebastian's arm and thighs too. He yanked the sheets and bedding away from the mattress on his side, and the covers are twisted under both of them. Sebastian reaches down, stroking his hand over Chris's again, both their fingers slick with come, and deliberately trails his fingers through the small puddle on Chris's stomach. Chris breathes in, "Ahh _Jesus...."_ right as Seb raises his hand to his mouth and licks Chris's come off his fingers. Chris lets out a sound between a laugh and a moan he didn't even know he could make, and Sebastian smiles, sucking his first and second fingers deliberately, then rubs them over his reddened, wet lips.

"Fuck," Chris manages, his voice all breath and not really there, "Seb, don't do that, you're gonna fucking kill me."

Seb grins, not his happy smile but that bold predatory amused look which almost makes the hairs on the back of Chris's neck stand up. "Yeah, but what a way to go, hunh?" he drawls.


	2. oh, man! look at those cavemen go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, what -- _do_ you -- want?" Chris asks, in between kisses, finally turning his head to break free of Sebastian's mouth. "C'mon, what? Try me out -- what do you want? Right now? Let's do it -- whatever you want." He rolls his hips on _whatever_ and Sebastian laughs low right by his ear, then kisses his neck.
> 
> "You ever eat out a girl's ass?" is really not the next sentence Chris is expecting to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately after Chapter 1. 
> 
> Also, to the people I don't know personally who are reading this for some reason: I am so sorry! Apparently when I say "Monday" it means "Thursday," who knew. This explains a lot about my life, actually.
> 
> The bit Chris tells Sebastian about how he got into acting is from an interview. I'm not sure exactly what this disclaimer means for an RPF fic, but Eleanor and the experience Chris has in this story in an abandoned house are both completely fictional.
> 
> There will probably be at least two more stories in this series, and an epilogue.

Maybe it's that look which gives Chris the courage to say, "Tell me what else you want....something else you want me to do." Seb opens his mouth, and Chris adds quickly, "And can we skip the _do you really want it, yes I really really do_ part? I mean" -- he gestures down at the mess they're lying in -- "I did, I do, it's obvious, right?"

While he's going on, Seb gets one of those slow, uncurling smiles that spreads across the whole lower half of his face and looks diabolical. "Oh, yeah?" he says in an exaggerated drawl. "Obvious, hunh?" He's still up on one elbow and shifts his weight so he's draped over Chris, chest to chest, their faces about an inch apart, and his left hand finds Chris's right wrist and grips hard. Chris swallows. "What's obvious?"

Out of sheer instinct, not knowing why at all, Chris relaxes as much as he can, lets his hands go limp, shoulders untensing, makes himself as unresisting and open as he can. "I want you," he tries to say in a normal voice, but his voice cracks and sounds caught in his throat. "Whatever you want. I want to do....whatever you want." At this angle, Sebastian's eyes look very clear but oddly opaque, in a way blue eyes almost never do: dark grey but with a darker ring around the iris that makes it clear how light the grey really is, and strangely unreadable. 

"I don't...." Chris sighs more harshly than he means to, Seb's weight helping push the air out of his lungs. " -- I don't know what to say, all right? How to say it. I never do, I fuck shit like this up, I don't -- "

"Don't do that." Seb's voice is soft but has a sharp edge to it that makes Chris stop short. Sebastian, seeing something in his face, says more gently, "Don't put yourself down like that all the time, all right? Just -- don't."

Chris says wryly, "Why should I listen to you, more than anyone else?" He sabotages himself like it's his job; sometimes he thinks it's what he's best at.

"Because," Sebastian says, sliding all the way over on top of Chris, apparently not giving a shit they haven't cleaned up yet, "you're mine." He doesn't say the words with any special emphasis but his eyes look electric and Chris feels like he might not be able to breathe, but he doesn't care. Seb twists the fingers of his other hand through Chris's hair, hard, but Chris is lying so motionless it doesn't hurt. "Now, you belong to me," Seb says, voice still low and even. "And that means" -- Sebastian brings his mouth close to Chris's, so Chris can feel his breath on his lips with the next words, hot and a little damp -- "you do what I say." He kisses Chris, not hard, but thoroughly, not letting go either his hair or his wrist.

When Seb finally breaks the kiss so they can both gasp for air, Chris says, because while the rest of his body may be entirely at Sebastian's mercy, his mouth has a life of its own and is determined to live it: "So is that what this fancy BDSM shit really is? Just you being bossy?"

Seb's smirk breaks into a big, real smile, like he can't help it. "Yeah," he says, and kisses Chris again, slightly less devastating this time. "Sure."

"So, what -- _do_ you -- want?" Chris asks, in between kisses, finally turning his head to break free of Sebastian's mouth. "C'mon, what? Try me out -- what do you want? Right now? Let's do it -- whatever you want." He rolls his hips on _whatever_ and Sebastian laughs low right by his ear, then kisses his neck.

"You ever eat out a girl's ass?" is really not the next sentence Chris is expecting to hear.

"What? Well, yeah. Not a whole _lot,_ but yeah. Definitely." Chris tries to remember details while his neurons are being fried, first by Seb asking him that question, and also by Seb running his tongue down Chris's throat and using his teeth right above his clavicle. Chris doesn't think a girl's ever _asked_ him to do it, but when he suggested it -- it's not something he'd spring on someone -- a couple of them were way into the idea. But some of them seemed to want it even less than him going down on them, which in Chris's opinion is really something for the angels to weep over. 

"You like it?"

"....Yeah." Chris waits, but Sebastian seems too busy sucking on his neck to say anything. "Do _you_ like it?" he volleys back, and Seb stops dead.

"Yeah," he says against Chris's skin, his voice so low Chris can barely hear him.

"Is that what you want?" Seb remains quiet, his forehead on Chris's shoulder so Chris has no idea what he's thinking. Chris tentatively works one hand free, cups the back of Sebastian's head in his palm, his fingers digging through Seb's smooth, thick hair. Sebastian sighs, but still doesn't talk. "Come on, is it or not?" Chris teases. 

Seb finally raises his head, looking exasperated but affectionate, which shouldn't be as much of a turn-on as it is. "Yeah. That's what I want," he says, over-enunciating, nearly sarcastic. 

The one constant in Chris's life is he never knows when to quit, so he goes on teasing: "You want _what?_ If you can't say it, you don't get it...."

Sebastian's almost glaring at him now, eyes blazing. It's hot as hell. "I, want, you, to _eat my ass,"_ he growls. Chris lets his head fall back, half-hard already, like the words are going straight to his dick. _"Fuck,_ yeah," he sighs, and groans as Seb bites down right over his carotid. _"Oh,_ God. Yeah -- "

"There are better things for your mouth to be doing," Seb informs him, so over-the-top snotty Chris can't help laughing, and then Seb grins too. 

"Okay, well....come on, roll over...." Seb stiffens, but rolls off Chris and kind of writhes up on the bed in a way that further destroys the covers and Chris's executive function at the same time. _Jesus._ "Okay...." he says again, just looking, first appreciating the view but then trying to read the situation.

Sebastian's lying on his stomach, (beautiful) ass exposed but not raised up, head turned to the side, resting on his folded arms, his legs relaxed but not spread out. Chris frowns some, then decides to go with what's worked before, even if it was on straight girls; Seb has the same kind of slightly defensive vibe. He gets on his knees, straddling Sebastian's hips, his cock resting on Seb's back. Seb goes tense. "Shh," Chris soothes, more confident now. He unfolds Seb's arms, laying his palms flat on the mattress, elbows bent, then bends down and barely kisses the back of Seb's neck. Sebastian sighs and starts relaxing all over, from his shoulders on down. 

"Yeah, that's it," Chris says, and kisses Seb's neck some more, light with a bit of tongue, no teeth and no pressure. He starts massaging Sebastian's shoulders; Sebastian makes that small groaning sound people do when they stretch fully out, and reaches up for the head of the bed, burying his hands in the sheets. "There you go, yeah," Chris says, pure mindless reassurance, and traces down Sebastian's spine with three fingers, first hard, then light; then with one fingertip; then with his tongue. Seb groans louder and spreads his thighs as Chris moves down, settling in between Seb's legs, but not pushing them apart, not yet. He rubs the skin just above Seb's hips, sweeps the flats of his hands down Seb's back right over his ass, runs his hands along the hard outsides of Seb's thighs, then does it all over again, slower. Seb groans, impatiently now, and pushes his ass up a little bit, his legs falling open at the same time. Chris smiles. 

"Yeah, that's it....God you're gorgeous," he says honestly, rubbing the inside of Seb's thighs, just below his ass, his thumbs working down into the muscle. "There....there you go...." He gets down, then turns on his side, legs angled out, so he can keep his feet on the bed and maybe get himself off later. He gently presses his palms against Seb's inner thighs and feels Seb's legs open more. "Yeah, okay...." Chris whispers, rubbing up along Seb's thighs, massaging the backs of his legs, still not touching his ass.

"You," Seb says mostly into the mattress, muffled but heartfelt, "are a fucking _tease."_ He pushes his ass up so his knees are slightly bent. Chris's breath catches and he can't help it, he knows he should work Seb's thighs and then his ass some more, making him loose and supple until he's practically begging for it, but he's only fucking human. He pulls Sebastian's buttocks open and leans down, breathing onto Sebastian's exposed skin, huffing out to make sure the air's warm, not blowing. Sebastian says _"Oh"_ and tries to shove his ass back into Chris's face, but Chris moves with him, not letting him make contact, then licks at the start of Sebastian's crack, right where the skin splits. Seb cries out again but doesn't try to move back this time, so Chris licks him more, lapping a little, his tongue right inside Sebastian's ass but not going any deeper. He does it again, and again, lightening his grip on Seb's buttocks but spreading them at the same time, and Sebastian opens his legs wide, then tries to go up on his knees, swaying off-balance. Chris says "Okay, hey, wait a minute, just hang on," and grabs one pillow from the middle of the bed and rescues another that's slipping onto the floor, and slides them under Sebastian's hips, one at a time. "There, that okay? All right?"

"Yeah, just....yeah, just go back to...." Sebastian says, sounding dazed. Chris doesn't tease him about _using his words_ now but does what Seb wants, licking slowly again and then flicking his tongue. He flattens his palms right up against Seb's ass, thumbs deep in the flesh on either side of his hole, and slowly spreads Seb's cheeks again, holding his ass open this time. He licks Sebastian's hole once, slow and soft, and Sebastian jerks under him, a full-body jolt. "Shh, shhh," Chris whispers, even though Seb can't hear him, and does it again, more slowly. He keeps licking, long strokes, gently massaging Seb's cheeks with his palms until Seb's pushing back against him again, and props himself up on his elbows. Chris takes a deep breath and, like always at this point, remembers the words of the girl who taught him how to do this: _Look at it this way. Use what I told you about eating pussy, except there's no clit._

He opens his mouth, kissing and lightly sucking at Seb's hole without too much pressure, and feels Seb drop down into the bed, thigh muscles hard and straining. Chris traces around the tight ring of muscle with his tongue, keeping it loose, not probing yet, focusing on teasing the nerve endings and slicking Seb up. He knows this is what he'd do to get Seb relaxed enough if Seb wanted Chris to fuck him -- hell, it's why that girl showed Chris how to do this in the first place, because she found out he hadn't fucked anyone in the ass before -- and maybe that's why Seb was tight at first, but now he's opening up beautifully, enough into it he's starting to rock back and forth, shoving his hips down into the pillows and then pushing his ass back against Chris's mouth. If Sebastian wasn't so far gone already Chris would go back to teasing, kissing his inner thighs and crack and the tight backs of his legs, but instead he keeps working Seb's hole, slow licks with some more flicking and darting, mostly up and down, circling around a little, increasing the pressure but not bearing down, not yet. Chris can't lie, he could eat pussy all day, but there's something about rimming -- with both girls and guys -- that's even deeper, more intimate, like both people using their bodies to say to each other _nothing about you turns me off, I love everything_ and _I'm yours, no part of me is off limits, love everything you want._

He's still going too fast, but he spreads his fingers wide and grips Seb's ass hard. Seb makes a choked sound up above him, face buried in the mattress, it sounds like. Chris takes another breath, points his tongue, and pushes it in deep. Seb arches up under him, thighs trembling, and Chris works his tongue in and out, in rhythm with Seb's movements. Seb rocks back and forth, the friction of the pillows underneath him and Chris's hands and tongue behind him pushing him over the edge. His noises are out of control, wild, and his body writhes under Chris's as Chris keeps going after Seb comes, not letting up or slowing down until Seb jerks away, pulling free of Chris's mouth and falling back down on the bed.

Chris reaches down, ready to get himself off -- his experience is someone who's just come from having their ass eaten out needs to relax and recover -- but Sebastian glances back over his shoulder and then reaches out and yanks hard on Chris's arm. "No," he says, voice hoarse, "come on -- come up -- up -- " Chris nearly falls on his side, then gives in and lets Seb pull him forward so he's lying across Sebastian's back, leaning on one forearm, his cock between Seb's legs, rubbing against his ass, slick with spit and precome -- the head slips in between Seb's cheeks and they both groan, Chris louder this time. He reaches out and grabs for one of Sebastian's hands, threading their fingers together, holding on tight. Seb spreads his legs so Chris slides in further -- _Jesus fucking Christ,_ if the angle was only a little different he'd almost be inside Seb -- and turns his head so he can look over his shoulder and see Chris, trying to look him right in the eye. Chris rocks back and forth, no finesse or technique, rutting like a high-schooler, his mouth against Sebastian's neck, his own groans mixing with Seb chanting, _yes, yes, Chris, yes, yes --_ Chris comes so loud and fast he knows he'll be embarrassed in a few minutes but he rides it out, saying _God_ and _Seb_ and _yes_ and _please_ and Christ knows what else, completely out of it. 

He collapses onto Seb, realizes the poor guy probably can't breathe, and starts to roll off, but Sebastian pulls on Chris's arm again. "No," he says, his voice surprisingly strong, "no, stay....just stay there."

"Okay," Chris says, panting, in no mood to argue. He tries moving to one side to make sure he doesn't suffocate the possible future Captain America. "You okay? Can you breathe?"

"Yeah." Sebastian turns his head so Chris can see him again, like it's proof, then settles back down. "I'm fine....okay. I'm fine."

Chris kisses what he can of Sebastian's face -- his cheek, temple, forehead, the side of his nose, staying away from his mouth. He thinks he tastes wetness, salt, not just sweat -- "Hey," he says, alarmed, "hey. It's okay." Sebastian sniffs the tears back once, loudly, but doesn't seem to be upset otherwise. "Did I hurt you? Was it too -- "

"No, no," Seb says immediately. "You didn't, it's not anything you did, it just....happens sometimes." He shrugs one shoulder, even that movement lazy and graceful. "Don't worry about it -- "

"Ahh, fuck you," Chris says, incredulous, _Bahstahn_ coming out in his words the way it does sometimes when he's caught really off-guard. "Don't _worry? -- "_ He gets up, trying not to push Seb through the mattress in the attempt, and then turns Seb to face him; Sebastian follows his lead, unresisting, which doesn't seem good. Chris puts his arms around Seb, trying to be comforting rather than confining, remembers what Sebastian did for him before.

"You want some water? Juice, something to eat...energy bar? Anything?"

"No....no, thanks," Sebastian says, in that detached tone. They're both lying on the blankets, which are tangled all to hell anyway, so Chris slings one leg over Sebastian's and tries tucking Seb's head between his shoulder and chest. They just lie there, silent, Chris trying to stomp on his anxiety and figure out what Sebastian needs, idly rubbing his index and middle fingers down one of Sebastian's shoulderblades, then up, then across, then down the other, up, across, down....He loses track of how many times before Sebastian says, sounding a hell of a lot better, "I can hear your heartbeat."

Chris puts his chin on top of Sebastian's head and flattens his palm against Sebastian's back, rubbing in circles this time, Sebastian's cheek against his chest, over Chris's heart, if he's still listening to it. 

"I'm a mess," Sebastian says, in that low drawl of his, almost dreamily.

"Shut up. No, you're not." 

Sebastian just huffs his big-cat snort again.

"Okay, fine. You're a mess. I'm a mess too. I freak out all the fucking time." 

Sebastian shrugs. 

"Come on," Chris coaxes, rubbing harder, "you took care of me, in the shower and whatever, don't you get it back?" Seb buries his face against Chris's shoulder, not crying again from what Chris can tell, just trying to get close. Chris holds him, both hands flat against Seb's back, one above the other, not hard but firm, but it's not enough; it still feels like Sebastian's far off again, even when they're wrapped around each other. All Chris can think is that it worked when Sebastian did it for him, and he's never seen Seb this off, so he gently puts his hand on the back of Seb's neck, not expecting the immediate reaction he gets. Seb relaxes almost all the way, shoulders loosening, his head bowing down. It's somehow hot as fuck, but also a little heartbreaking. Seb's body might be less tense, but his breathing is harsher, and Chris strokes the back of his neck, scratches his fingers up into Seb's hair, smooths his palm down over the top of Seb's back, trying to communicate with all those small touches: _I'm here, you're here, we're here, now, it's okay._

It takes a while, but Sebastian's breathing eases up, and his body doesn't seem quite so limp. He inhales deeply a couple of times, then tips his head back, his hair falling straight away from his face, and looks Chris in the eye, that grey gaze clouded and hard to read again. He doesn't look....relaxed, exactly, but like he's trying to figure something out, and then forcing himself to drop it, telling himself it doesn't matter. Chris knows that look from the inside out: it's the expression of someone trying to get off the ride, give themselves a break, shut off the self-hatred tapes in their own brain. Sebastian chews up his bottom lip in that unfair way he has that drives everybody nuts, fangirls and grandmothers alike, and Chris gets the same weird feeling he did once messing around in a broken-down apartment house in Roxbury one overcast afternoon with his brother and a couple of cousins, when they were kids, long after they were supposed to be back home. They'd been goofing around, trying to scare each other with _Blair Witch_ -type shit, and Chris had seen a newel post and handrail in the gloomy half-dark and thought idly about sneaking off downstairs to make noise banging on the ceiling to freak the others out good, but something else had caught his attention instead and he'd forgotten about it. 

Later, when they'd been trying to find a safe way down, one of them had flicked his Bic by what they'd all thought was a staircase by that post and revealed a bunch of broken risers and rotting carpet instead. If Chris had gone down alone like he'd planned, he would have fallen far down in the dark, probably broken his arm, maybe a leg. (Or his _neck.)_ Everyone tries to plan their lives to avoid danger, thinking they can see threats far off and avoid them before they come up close, but the truth is the threats are all around us and sometimes we avoid them as blindly as we do everything else: turn right on red without waiting, leave fifteen minutes late instead of early for that audition, say hello to the wrong person at the party. You can't always know what you're doing, even when you think you do; especially when you think you do. Every step you think is down onto something solid can be a pitch forward into the dark instead.

Knowing all that, Chris puts his hand on the back of Sebastian's neck again, not rubbing or stroking. Letting the gesture say whatever it does to Sebastian, hoping that it being his hand somehow makes a difference, whatever that might be. Seb closes his eyes and stops worrying his own mouth, which is now wet and red and Chris wants to kiss it, but doesn't want to get up to at least rinse out his mouth in the bathroom like he should after rimming someone, so he just lies still. 

But he's never been any good at keeping quiet, so he says after a little while, "Did I ever tell you why I got into acting?"

Sebastian opens his eyes, looking more present, and says, "No. Were you....inspired by _Butch Cassidy,_ or something?"

Chris laughs. "No." He has no real idea why this came up in his mind right now but he keeps on going, and doesn't move his hand, either. "My older sister, that's who inspired me. When I was a kid, I didn't act in my first play until I saw her doing it, in my mom's theatre, and she was having a great time." Sebastian laughs, too. "We'd go see her after her plays, my parents gave her _candy,_ and I thought, 'Well, I want candy too!' -- I know, I know. She gets candy, she's getting to stay out on school nights, it all looks great -- so I did a couple of plays with her too, and that was it, I was hooked. And....that's how I fucking got right here, right now." He stops, bemused at his own memory suddenly pitching that out. "I don't even know why I remembered all that." He kisses Sebastian's forehead.

"No, I know what you mean....I think I get it." Sebastian looks at Chris, almost amused, then kisses him full on the mouth, darting his tongue in -- Chris draws back, surprised, and Seb has that wicked grin again. _Thank God._

Sebastian says, "Where the _hell_ did you learn to eat someone out like that?"

Chris has to laugh again, and rolls over onto his back so he can put one arm behind his head, keeping Sebastian close. "Oh, that was a year....that was a cah- _razy_ year. Great summer. One of the best, in a way. Not great overall, but -- Eleanor....yeah."

 _"Eleanor,"_ Sebastian says, sounding delighted. "Eleanor got your cherry, hunh?"

"Oh, please. No no no no no. As if. _That_ didn't happen for....a while. It didn't happen in high school even....well, at the end, the very end. I lost my virginity senior year. It happened one time and only one time. Eleanor was a _lot_ later."

"You know where she is now?"

"Eleanor? No, no idea. Why? You want to send her a thank-you card?"

Sebastian grins. "Hell with that, maybe I want to take _her_ out to STK. Maine lobster, Alaska king crab, swordfish, anything she wants...."

"There better not be a joke about your ass being on the dessert menu coming up."

Sebastian eyes him. "Not yours? So she didn't -- "

"No! -- no. Nobody has. All right? My ass is unplowed territory in many ways. Virgin terrain. Uncolonized by man or beast. I can keep going...."

Sebastian studies him a moment, that same figuring-out look that makes Chris want to ask if he looks like one of those awful word problems in old algebra textbooks, and then says in his heartstoppingly even tone, "I want to do that for you....when I fuck you. To help get you ready. If you want me to."

Chris suddenly realizes Seb's hand is on his hip, just resting there lightly, thumb moving back and forth along the bone. It's a little obvious for Seb, but hell, if he wants to get some of the power balance back after melting down, even if it was only for about ten seconds, Chris can hardly blame him. "Yeah," he manages, "I.....I want that." And then, protesting: " -- No, man, if you wanna make out right now, I want to at least swish around some mouthwash." Seb makes a face. "Yeah, I _know,_ but seriously, c'mon -- and the sheets are all disgusting, we should probably shower, and I am _not_ sleeping on that pillow....hey, you remember the tub in Hayley's bathroom? Think we got one that big?"

"I really don't fucking _care,"_ Seb says, but lies back laughing, and lets him get up and go.


End file.
